


The Joy of Theatre

by agerefandom (tazia101)



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Disclaimer: do not lick sharpies, Fluff, Gen, reposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazia101/pseuds/agerefandom
Summary: Just a little evening with Pinky and Brain before it's time to take over the world again.
Relationships: Brain & Pinky (Animaniacs)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	The Joy of Theatre

“Brain!” Pinky scrambles over to his friend’s side. “Brainbrainbrainbrainbrain-”

“What, Pinky?” Brain groans, finally opening his eyes.

“I thought you were _dead_!!” Pinky wails, collapsing across Brain’s chest and nuzzling the side of his face against Brain’s fur. Brain’s the best pillow, he is. “You wouldn’t talk to me!”

“I was asleep, Pinky,” says Brain impatiently. But he doesn’t push Pinky off, even petting his ear once or twice. Pinky wiggles under the attention, humming happily. It’s too bad Brain is smaller, and Pinky can’t just curl up on top of him and stay there forever.

“You shouldn’t sleep, Brain, s’boring without you.”

“Boring is good.” Brain tries to roll over, but Pinky sprawls more pointedly across his chest, and eventually Brain gives up with an exasperated grunt. “Boring means that they aren’t putting us in new machines, or making us drink chemicals, or measuring our tails.”

“I like having my tail measured!” Pinky wraps his tail around his wrist, uses it to pull his wrist around like a little puppet. “They’re very polite about it.”

“That’s because your tail isn’t naturally bent,” Brain grumbles. Brain’s tail hasn’t always been bent, but Pinky knows that it still hurts a lot when the big scientists pull it straight for measurements.

“It’s not!” Pinky runs the tip of his tail over Brain’s nose, laughing when he splutters. “It’s perfect! So’s yours, of course. All tails are beautiful! That’s what I say. They’re all perfect. That’s why humans look so strange.” Pinky shivers a little. “No tails at all! Sometimes they have tails of hair on their head, though, have you noticed? Very flattering! They’re trying to copy us.”

Pinky cackles at the thought, sitting up to hug his own tail. He’s so happy to have one. Brain rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, moving all slow and tired.

“Can we play now?” Pinky asks.

“I suppose.” Brain looks at the clock, but Pinky already checked. He knows they have lots of time! Three numbers on the small hand. Brain already slept a whole big hand number, and who has time for that? “What pastime shall we indulge today?”

“I was thinking of putting on a play!” Pinky gets to his feet, letting his tail drop behind him, and puffs out his chest. He knows what actors look like! “You can watch and then give me notes! Like a director, like!”

“That would certainly be a diversion from our imprisonment,” Brain says, limping over to the nearest chair in the cage and collapsing into it. “What is the subject of this theatrical production?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Pinky cheers, running away to get changed. He’d already made his costume while Brain was sleeping, mostly patched together from scotch tape coloured with Sharpies. The big markers smell funny, and they don’t taste very good, but they are very good at colouring, which is the most important thing! Pinky sticks his tongue out, crossing his eyes to look down at it. Yep, definitely good at colouring: his tongue is still totally blue!

Pinky pulls on his costume and scampers back to Brain in the chair, doing a slow turn so the other mouse can appreciate all the angles of his work.

“The name of the play is Hamfit! It’s about a pig trying to get strong so he can fight a farmer.” Pinky gestures at the Sharpie pig snout covering his nose. “See?”

“I see.” Brain looks like he has a headache: Pinky should offer him a neck massage later. “Well, break a leg, as they say.”

“Brain!” Pinky can’t hide the hurt he feels at the words. “Why would you say that?”

“It is thespian slang, Pinky. It means good luck with the performance.”

“Well, we’re both boys, NARF, so just say good luck next time!” Pinky hears Brain sigh as he rushes off to switch on the spotlight above their cage for his performance. He hopes Brain isn’t developing asthma! That would be awful.

Returning to the now-lit stage, Pinky takes his place and begins his performance.

It is part-mime, part-spoken word, and of course there are two dance breaks. At the end, Hamfit defeats the farmer and realizes that he was never really struggling against an individual, but rather against his internalized vision of himself as a victim of the farm industry.

Pinky finishes his final soliloquy with tears in his eyes, then stands to take his bow.

Brain is already standing and applauding, a rare smile on his face. “Bravo, Pinky. An inspired performance.”

“Thank you Brain!” Pinky bows three times, Brain continuing with his applause until the third bow. Pinky tears the pig snout from his face, taking a deep breath of fresh air that doesn’t smell like permenant marker. “I think that was some of my best work yet!”

“Indubitably,” Brain says. Pinky isn’t sure if that’s a compliment, but he smiles anyways. “Now, change out of your costume, it’s almost time for tonight.”

“Why, Brain, what are we going to do tonight?” Pinky asks, tripping over his shorts in his rush to get them off.

“The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!”

Pinky squeals and claps his hands, running in a little circle. He’s finished his performance, now it’s time for Brain to take the stage. Egad, he loves this life.


End file.
